


Something New

by zanni



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Pegging, Referenced prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 03:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10982130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanni/pseuds/zanni
Summary: Montparnasse is not her lover, and not exactly her friend (she dares not call anyone a friend these days). But he is someone who makes her feel like she is someone as well, which is more than she feels most of the time. She finds him sometimes when she feels lonely and when they are intimate it comforts her, although she wouldn’t say it out loud. She’s been here a couple of other times too, when her father is in an angry fit, and the streets are too cold to look for shelter. But today she’s not lonely and she’s not cold; she’s bored. The air is hot outside and Éponine wants to try something new.





	Something New

Montparnasse’s place always has a certain charm for Éponine.

There’s very little furniture, mismatched as it is, so most of his possessions are not hidden from view. This could be dangerous (it definitely would be at hers, where she cannot trust her family to leave her few belongings, much less any stranger who would visit), but he lives alone and she knows he rarely lets anyone in, preferring to conduct any sort of activity elsewhere. The beautiful clothes he cares so much about are folded in round hat boxes (ladies’ hats of course, no top hat is so large) and next to them there’s a half body mirror, decorated with tiny leaves and flowers of sculptured dark wood, which he must be quite proud of. The frame is broken on one side, and therefore of no use to wherever it came from.

Over the little table, there’s a small porcelain flower vase, white with a dragon drawn in blue ink, new since she was last here. A golden necklace and jeweled bracelet are set against it, to be sold later, she presumes. It’s less suspicious to wait, and she imagines he enjoys keeping the jewels for a while, if only to look at them. Like a magpie, Montparnasse is attracted to shiny things to keep in his nest. The nest itself is nothing special; a small room on the third floor of an old building, its only interesting feature being its rose patterned wallpaper – Éponine is almost sure the wallpaper is the only reason Montparnasse picked this place at all, even if it is noticeably old, and torn and rotten in certain parts.

 “What’s the matter with you today?” Montparnasse asks, bringing her back to the present.

He’s half undressed and half hard under her, seemingly annoyed at the lack of attention he’s receiving. Éponine cannot really blame him though; she is the one who walked into his room, and pushed him into the bed. She was restless and men are easy, Montparnasse being no exception, but then she did not feel like doing any of the usual things with him.

Montparnasse is not her lover, and not exactly her friend (she dares not call anyone a friend these days). But he is someone who makes her feel like she is someone as well, which is more than she feels most of the time. She finds him sometimes when she feels lonely and when they are intimate it comforts her, although she wouldn’t say it out loud. She’s been here a couple of other times too, when her father is in an angry fit, and the streets are too cold to look for shelter. But today she’s not lonely and she’s not cold; she’s bored. The air is hot outside and Éponine wants to try something new.

 “Do men bugger you?”

 He raises one eyebrow at the question but she merely keeps staring, a curious look on her face. “Sometimes” he finally replies.

“Do they pay you?” 

“Most of them. Not always with money.”

She’s not sure what she was expecting. Embarrassment perhaps, or anger, an icy glare that told her she was no longer welcome. Instead, he just looks back at her inquisitively, no hint of shame, not any more red on his cheeks than the rouge he’s powdered himself with. “Why do you ask?” 

“I wish I could do it too. To you, I mean.”

 _Maybe I'm the shameless on_ e, she thinks, surprised with herself for even asking, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “That could be arranged” he says, his eyes lighting up and a sly smile appearing on his face.

He leaves her on the small bed for a moment and comes back with an object she hadn’t seen before. Not everything is in view after all. She blushes when it’s placed in her hands, only now realizing what it is. Smooth wood and detailed on the tip, the dildo even seems somewhat fancy (not that Éponine has ever seen one outside of a caricature for comparison).

“Do you want to try it?”

“Yes.” This encounter is turning out to be different from the ones they’ve had before. Excitement returns to her.

She finishes getting rid of their clothes, throwing them on the floor, and he frowns slightly. He probably wanted to _fold them_ , separating his fashionable outfits from her dirty skirts. She rolls her eyes, and with a short “ahem”, she positions herself between his thighs, the cold dildo touching his bottom, bringing his full attention back to her.

“Wait. Use this.” Montparnasse takes a bit of some sort of oil from a small flask, before handing it to her. He uses it to prepare his entrance and she watches in fascination, as a soft sigh escapes his lips, and now he’s looking at her, expectantly, and she does her preparations as well.

She enters him, slowly at first, and he leads her deeper, setting up a rhythm, moving his hips. It's a strange sensation. Éponine leans down and he kisses her lips, her neck, seemingly pleased enough with how she's going. “Yes, ah! There...” his voice breaking in that last word. She’s never found him so arousing.

“Harder.”

Éponine complies and he moans. Oh, how she wishes this really was her cock, that she could spend inside him like the men she asked about, satisfied and looking at the pretty spectacle Montparnasse makes of himself, black curls messy, red lips parted in pleasure, legs spread open with their semen dripping off him. But the thing inside him is just a toy, and she’s so wet. She thrusts harder in frustration and Montparnasse gasps, that little sound urging her to kiss him roughly, to bite those plump lips even redder. Moaning sweetly in her mouth, he holds her with one hand and touches himself with the other. It’s not long before he comes, shuddering and letting go of her. Éponine removes the dildo and sets it aside, barely letting him savor his orgasm before speaking.

“My turn now.”

Now he’s the one on top, slipping two fingers inside her. Eyes dark and half lidded, his face flushed and contented, Montparnasse looks so beautiful to her it’s unfair.

“Use your mouth.” Éponine says, and so obediently he does this, that no one would think him to be the same deadly thief who’s so feared in the streets. She holds him in place by his hair, and has no problem with pulling it a bit too much, with digging her nails into the skin on his back. That she has done before, and he always likes the pain. And she likes what he’s doing too. His mouth is warm and wet on her, and his experienced tongue always knows what to do, wether it be a woman or a man. She comes with a loud moan, pulling his hair one last time.

Montparnasse lays down by her side and she kisses him once, tasting herself on his lips.

They stay like that, not looking at each other, but in comfortable silence, for a while. She promised Azelma to go to the park with her later today – it’s a hot summer day and everyone feels relaxed, they’ll be able to have fun and look at pretty dresses and pretty people, with no comments or side glances from said people – and so she gets up to dress herself. Montparnasse doesn’t move and stays observing her, reminding her of a cat this time, all feline grace and laziness, basking in the sun which has since reached the bed. He may be a cat, but even if she's fumbling for crumbs in the streets, she’s no mouse. He knows that. Maybe that’s what she likes the most about him, more than his pretty face and the comforting sex.

He doesn’t ask her to stay (he never does) and so she heads to the door. As she’s about to leave, he finally speaks up.

“Éponine... Let’s keep this between us.”

“Of course. What sort of proper young lady would do these things in the first place?” He grins at the word _proper_ but she takes no offense. “I’ll see you around, monsieur.” With a little mocking bow, she leaves, closing the door behind her.

The park awaits her and Éponine is not bored anymore.


End file.
